


Sleepy, Grumpy, and Cuddly

by Ferrety



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco hates mornings, Explicit Sexual Content, I just write whatever the fuck I want, M/M, Smut, and other kind of stuff, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferrety/pseuds/Ferrety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco hates mornings. Anybody could tell you that. He's also oddly pliant. In the mornings.<br/>Harry kind of likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepy, Grumpy, and Cuddly

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta-ed, parts of it where written at unholy hours, the usual stuff.

The first time Harry thought something was up with Draco Malfoy and mornings, was during Eight Year.

They had had to go back to Hogwart to get their N.E.W.T.s, and they were housed in one singular Eight Year House. There had been some teeth clenching, but all the arguing was quickly shut down by the Hufflepuffs (who just wanted everybody to get along), Ravenclaws (who were smart enough to know it was stupid to get riled up for such a reason) and Hermione (who just hit any complainers with her wand sporting a terrifying glare.)

Thus, every morning, all Eight Years were blessed with the sight of Draco Malfoy Mornings. The few former Slytherin were obviously used to it and barely batted an eyelash at his behavior, but the first time Harry saw the blond young man shove away a former Ravenclaw to get access to the bathroom, he violently told him off. Malfoy had looked at him with sleepy eyes under his unbelievably messy white-blond hair, grunted, and slammed the door behind him.

Half an-hour later, he was out, impeccably dressed as ever, his hair and smug smirk firmly in place, and seemed to have dismissed Harry completely.

The same scene was more or less repeated every morning. Malfoy would stumble out of his bed, grunt at everybody, his hair sticking at impossible angles, and shove anybody standing between him and the bathroom. Then, he would spend half an hour, and walk out, chin high and sneering.

"What a prat," would comment Ron, and that would be the end of that.

In class, Harry noticed, Malfoy was much less flamboyant than he used to be. If he looked at him, and Malfoy saw, he'd straighten up and glare hauntingly. But otherwise, he was mostly silent. He didn't mock anybody anymore, picked mostly harmless and half-hearted fights with Harry (« Did an elephant die in your wardrobe, Potter ? »), sticked close to crowded places without ever getting into groups, and ate little.

Harry was getting worried about him being bullied behind his back, and tried to subtly remember that Malfoy's wand had been really compliant and helped him kill Voldemort. That only earned him a few weirded out looks.

Nevertheless, Malfoy's morning antics were starting to annoy him.

One day, Ernie MacMillan was getting to the bathroom when Malfoy awkwardly got up. Ernie squeaked as Malfoy made a beeline for the entrance where he was currently standing, getting ready for a violent elbowing, but Harry, who had been rummaging in his trunk for a shirt, was having none of that.

"Oh no you don't, I'm tired of this," he mumbled, running to Malfoy and grabbing him by the shoulders, "Ernie was here first and you'll deal with it this morning !"

He pulled Malfoy away from a thankful-eyed MacMillan, who used the momentum to lock himself in the boy's bathroom. Surprisingly, Malfoy didn't pose any resistance at all, and merely grunted while Harry manhandled him to sit on his bed.

Harry raised an eyebrow at that, while Ron openly gaped.

"Just... Stay here and wait for your turn." Harry said.

Malfoy just grunted again, and Harry deemed safe to go back to his shirt researches.

Ron stumbled to his side.

"Did you just... do that ?"

"I think I did, Ron."

"But he didn't react at all !"

"I saw that too. That's weird."

They were interrupted by a soft « thump ». Turning around, they were greeted by the sight of the Malfoy Heir, who had fallen back on his four-poster bed, sleeping soundly.

Sean and Dean were looking too (Dean was half naked and Sean was missing a sock), obviously trying not to laugh.

"Who would have thought the git was such an Unmorning Person ?" Ron said, giggling.

 

Later that morning, when Malfoy finally walked out of the bathroom as his usual self, he sneered at Harry.

"You were incredibely rude, even for you."

"Wow, thank you, you're really warming my heart."

"Screw you, Potter."

Harry had honestly expected more venom than that, and quirked an eyebrow at him. Malfoy scoffed, and stormed off.

Ron had a field day explaining in lenghty details how ridiculous Malfoy looked in the morning in Hermione's ear, who had at first looked bored, but seemed to be warming up more and more to the image, until she started chuckling.

"Oh boy, I should hang around the boys' dorms more often."

"Please don't." Harry said.

 

The autumn was falling on Hogwart, as were the red leaves slowly floating down the softly yellowing grounds. The sky turned a dark, rich grey, the wind woke up, and the rain became once again a common ponctuation in every conversation.

Everybody was putting up a smiling and hopeful facade, but Hermione had been seen crying into Ron's arms one evening, the First Years looked tense and snappish, Harry sometimes woke up drenched in sweat and nightmares, and Draco's glamour charms sometimes failed to conceal a bruise on the jaw.

Still, everybody was trying, right ? They could get better. The next generation, Hermione had said, would probably be over-joyous, before she started muttering about World War II and the following youth riots and fashion.

She often muttered about this kind of things, nowadays.

Harry was as heavily burdened as each of them, but he didn't lose a brother, never saw his best friend, his lover die, or turn to the dark side, and if he sometimes had nightmares, he was not, like Hermione, reliving being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange.

He could handle his lot, he mused. This year, nobody tried to kill him. This year, he could somehow relax.

Guilt sometimes choked him, when he thought of this year as relaxing, when everybody was so tired and still hurting, but he couldn't help it.

This year, his biggest problem was Draco Malfoy Mornings.

And he started to enjoy them.

And he had defeated Voldemort, so, really, people should just give him a break, alright ?

 

Halloween time came. Hagrid was once again growing the giant pumpkin for the party, but it all felt a bit forced to Harry. They really could use a huge party, but nobody wanted to party. According to Hermione, the first time Voldemort was thought dead, there had been huge celebrations, and there were this time too, but nobody could help the traumatized students, beside councelling. She had been negociating with McGonagall to get something done with that.

They had to admit, thought, that the students who hadn't been directly involved looked mostly fine by now. Their fear of the castle and what had happened there had time to vanish a little over the two months of classes, so the spirits had lifted a little.

Plus, Harry still had the pleasure of seeing Draco looking like a sunflower in the morning.

Once, he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom when Draco violently opened the door. Harry paused, giving him an inquiring look.

Draco glared.

Or tried to.

Harry supposed it was supposed to be a glare.

It looked like an angry messy and sleepy kitten to him.

He nearly giggled on his toothbrush.

"Sorry, you're not getting me out of here before I'm done. There's more than one sink here, though, did you ever notice ? I think it's supposed to be a common bathroom. You know, like they have in dorms. You ever been to a dorm ? I think you're supposed to live as a community there, doing stuff together. Like brushing teeth in a common bathroom."

Draco tried harder to glare, but Harry was grinning wildly through his toothpaste.

Finally, Draco seemed to come to a decision, and walked awkwardly to the sink next to Harry's after slamming the door behind him. He placed both hands on it, and sighed heavily.

Harry was observing him in interest, mechanically brushing his teeth. This was going to be enlightening.

Draco raised his head to the mirror in front of him, and looked at his reflection. For a few long seconds, nothing happened.

Then, he winced.

Harry chocked down a laugh. _Don't fuck this up,_ he thought, _this is brilliant._

The blonde boy ran a hand through his hair, helping gravity reclaim it. He turned the water on, and splashed his face, first violently, then in a slower, deeper way, seeming to massage the wakefulness back into it.

When he rose again, he was noticeably brighter-eyed, and redder.

"You done oggling me ?" He rasped, his voice still asleep.

Harry had been brushing his teeth for so long he was probably bleeding, but he smiled wide :

"Not a chance."

Draco grunted, but didn't seem ready to fight yet. He put out his wand and renewed the glamour charm on his face.

"I knew you did that," Harry blurted out.

This time, the glare was back at full efficiency.

"I don't usually, ScarFace. It'th exceptionnal."

Draco was slurring and had a slight lisp.

Wasn't he cute.

"Why this morning, then ?"

"None of your business."

"I can harass you until I know."

Draco's lips quirked up.

"Yeah. I know."

He started using his wand to charm his hair back to its usual perfection.

"So ?"

Lock by lock, he flattened them into place.

"What's on your face this morning, Sunshine ?"

Still, he was ignored. Draco was looking intently at his reflection.

Harry spat out his toothpaste and rinced his mouth.

"I'll breath mint in your nose."

Draco's nose scrunched up, but still he said nothing.

Harry bumped into his elbow with his own.

"Come oooon."

Draco had more trouble ignoring him this time, but still he persisted.

"Oh my god, I know. I figured it out."

Harry grinned even harder, and pointed accusingly at Draco.

"You got a huge zit."

This time, it worked. Draco snapped at him.

"I don't have a zit ! I have a fucking black eye, Potter !"

Harry stopped smiling altogether.

An awkward silence fell, and Draco looked almost sick with regret.

"Show me, Harry demanded."

"Like hell, Potter."

"Show me, Malfoy."

"Do you get off on me being injured or something, Potter ? Like when you hexed me ?"

All color washed out from Harry's face, whose lips tightened impossibly. Draco had the decency to look like he knew he had hit a sore subject and was a bit guilty about it, but most of him seemed to express « well you fucking did. »

He turned back to the mirror, and finished taming his hair. He almost looked regal as his usual self, if one ignored the pajamas.

"Right," he muttered, moving as if to leave.

Before he could, though, Harry grabbed his wrist.

"I... never wanted to do that to you."

Draco wasn't looking at him.

"I'm really sorry about that. I... was really scared when I saw... you. Like this. I didn't know what the spell did."

"You're an idiot." Draco said.

He still wasn't looking at him.

Harry mustered a weak smile.

"A very sorry idiot."

Nothing was said for a few seconds again.

"I'm sorry."

"Potter, you repeated that enough during the last minute. I got it."

"I'm really really so fucking sorry."

"I know ! You can stop saying that !"

Harry's second hand joined the first to hold Draco's wrist.

"I never regretted anything so badly in my life."

"Will you quit..."

Draco turned to look at him, probably to glare, but stopped in his track. To be honest, Harry didn't know what expression he sported now, but it seemed to give Draco pause. Grey eyes searched his face, unsure, before he sighed.

"Yeah, he replied very quietly, okay."

They stayed like that a while, before Draco reclaimed his wrist. Harry didn't really want to let go, but that was weird, so he did.

"Now, please let me see ?"

"No. Fuck off, Potter."

He guessed he couldn't really push his luck.

"Now get out, I need to get dressed."

 

It had still been a useful conversation, Harry reflected. Draco seemed to hold himself a little less tighter around him now. He never had realized how tense Draco had been until he finally relaxed a bit.

And he was going to be granted one hell of a surprise.

The first sunday of Christmas Holidays, after nothing really evolved, he almost jumped when he saw Draco taking his Breakfeast in the Great Hall.

He had woken up later than usual, not really looking forward to the almost-empty Great Hall since most pupils would still rather go home (including the Weasleys. Harry really couldn't blame Molly for wanting her children close, and Harry had urged Hermione to go as well. She needed to be away. As for him, he just really wanted some quiet, and it was a bit hard to convince them.) and he had not seen Draco get up this morning.

Usually, the Malfoy Heir would always go home to his loving family for holidays, but... well, Lucius was in Azkaban still, and maybe he didn't want to see that. Or maybe there was another problem.

Anyway, Draco was alone at the Slytherin table. A few Ravenclaw, two Gryffindor, a bunch of Hufflepuff, were the other presents, with the Hufflepuff chatting excitedly at the Raveclaw table.

Harry shrugged, and figured he might as well not eat his breakfast alone.

He headed toward Draco, who hadn't yet gone through his morning ritual. Actually, his hair was still sticking at crazy angles, he was staring at his toast like he had trouble remembering what he was supposed to do with it, his pajama was showing under his robe, and he really could use some coffee. He didn't even flinch when Harry abruptly sat next to him.

"

"Hi, Draco."

Draco grunted. As expected, he made no remark about Harry calling him by his first name, for the first time in the history of ever.

"I think the jam you want is on your left. Here."

Harry stretched his arm across Draco's plate, who grunted again, grabbed the jar of strawberry jam, opened it, and left it by Draco's right hand.

"I'm not spreading your toast, so consider turning up whatever though process you need to do that."

Draco blinked a few times. He took a deep, deep breath, and sighed like an immense, impossible task had been set on his shoulders.

Then, without any grace or finesse, he dropped his head on Harry's shoulder, who froze with his own toast mid-air. What the fuck ?

Draco sighed again, but seemed in no mood to move.

Using his usual tactic when he didn't know what to do when dealing with a situation, which was to keep doing whatever he had been doing anyway, he resumed eating his breakfast. Draco's antics earned them a few point and stares, even from the teachers present (especially from Hagrid, whose bellowing voice was audible even from there), but overall, it wasn't really bad. Harry got through all his breakfast trying to move as little as possible his shoulder, and Draco didn't move at all. He was probably asleep again, if Harry was any judge.

Why he had been up this early was beyond Harry. Usually, when given choice, Draco would sleep until ten, if not eleven, and wake up considerably livelier (and grumpier) than on schooldays.

Anyway, he couldn't stay like this until eleven. How could Draco even sleep like this ?

"Hey, Draco, you should probably wake up now."

No answer.

"I understand you like my shoulder, but I need it. Like for doing stuff. And things."

A small sound, which could have been a whimper, was his only reply. Harry felt an odd shiver go up his spine.

"Really, please wake up."

"Nnnggg" Draco groaned again, and the odd shiver was back with friends, especially as Draco did a thing that could have been interpreted as an quarter of nuzzle.

"Just wake up, you ridiculous thing."

"Urrrrgh." Draco finally rose, and this time, managed to spread jam on his toast.

"I reaally hate you, he added after his first gulp of coffee."

"I know."

His serious tone earned him an odd look. Coffee seemed to be good for Draco's wakefulness.

Harry could only stare at his hand. His second conversation with Draco since that bathroom morning, and he was feeling gloomy again.

"Oh, come on," Draco snapped after his second cup of coffee, "Could you be any more of an idiot ?"

Harry looked up, confused.

"What ?"

"I took a nap on your shoulder."

"...So ?"

Draco looked at him like he'd like nothing more than strangle Harry for being such a dumbass.

Suddenly, light sparked in Harry's mind.

"Was that... Your way of saying we're... good ?"

Draco's look was still intense, but the murderous intent was gone.

Harry shifted a bit in his seat.

"That's one way to put it, Draco finally stated."

Harry felt hugely relieved.

 

Weirdly enough, during the holidays, no matter what hour he headed to the Great Hall, Draco would be there. Maybe he'd be half asleep, maybe he was reading a book with his hair impeccably in place. Harry found he liked best the days when Draco wasn't fully awake yet. Especially since he tended to do the sleeping-on-shoulder thing a lot.

Draco's company was easy. He was very quiet, but would speak his mind, mostly. He was smarter than Ron, and less rambling than Hermione.

And he was a huge drama queen.

With a lot of snark.

And a twisted humor.

Harry liked it.

On Christmas Day, Harry woke up peacefully. He put on his slippers, ran a hand through his messy hair. When he finally got into their Common Room, he gave a quick look under the giant Christmas tree. There was only Draco's pile and his own, since they were the only ones left.

Harry had got his usual Weasley jumper. Hermione's package looked like it was another book, which was probably thoughtful and carefully picked for him. Ron's gift was smaller and the wrapping was a bit messy, but gave away nothing about what was inside. There were some other gifts, then : Neville, Luna, George, Ginny, and then flowers, letters, other gifts from complete strangers. Harry unwrapped none of them and magically made himself a mug of hot chocolate to drink in a comfy velvet sofa, by the fire. Through the window, he could see snow falling from the dark sky. The tree glittered softly, and Harry felt completely at peace.

He dozed off a bit again. Enough not to see Draco stumble in, looking as dishevelled as usual, though he had a glint in his sleepy eyes as he took in the pile of gifts under the tree.

But Draco's pile was much, much smaller than Harry's. There were gifts from his mom, his closest friends, no more. Judging from the slightly crestfallen look on his face, Harry could guess he used to have much more than that.

Draco grunted in acknowledgement to Harry, grabbed his few gifts, and sat next to him. Harry wasn't surprised by Draco's need to lean on him by now, and actually appreciated it. It was warm, and completed Harry's little comfy world of peace in this Christmas morning. Draco idly tore the wrapping from his gifts, some magic object, and expensive-looking bracelet, two books. He made a little pile on his knees, stroked them in appreciation, and closed his eyes as he sank more heavily against Harry, sighing.

It was really a peaceful morning. Harry felt, in this moment, perfectly happy.

After a silence enough for him to think that Draco had fallen asleep again, he spoke.

"You're not 'pening yours ?"

Harry sighed softly, leaning back into Draco.

"I would... but I can't... reach them..."

"Accio, you idiot."

"Don't feel like it."

"Why not ? It's Christmas. Gifts. Gifts are the soul of this day. Recieving gifts."

Harry snorted.

"Yeah, well, I guess I never got used to that."

"What do you mean ?"

Huh. Harry had not planned to share that.

Draco was not letting go, though.

"Spill the beans, Potter."

"Well, I never had gifts before I arrived to Hogwart, so... That'd be eight years... That's still ten Christmas without gifts. I'm not used to it yet."

"Why would you not get gifts ?"

Draco seemed to really not understand why anybody in the world would go one Christmas without gifts.

Harry sighed. He didn't want to go through it.

Draco seemed to sense it. He dropped his gifts on the floor, and turned toward Harry without straightening up. He looked like he had thrown himself on Harry. He didn't ask again, though. He just stared. And stared.

Harry had eight years to get to know the Malfoy Stare. He never saw it with this expression, but he knew the bloke could stare.

Draco's arms snaked around Harry's waist. And really, Harry was feeling way too happy and comforted about that. Nobody hugged him like this. Not Hermione, not Ginny. A nice, strong, steady hold.

He was so going to crack.

"The Muggles I lived with... Didn't really like me."

Draco said nothing.

"I kind of lived in a closed under the stairs. And, hum, my cousin Dudley liked to beat me up. With his friends. Or, you know. Be a bully. I... was often hungry, too."

Draco's grasp tightened. Harry shifted a bit.

"This kind of things. I don't like to think about it."

He chuckled darkly.

"Remember in first year, when you stole Neville's Remembrall and I caught it and McGonagall pulled me out of class ? When she asked for Oliver Wood, my first thought was that he was a stick she was going to beat me up with."

Still, Draco said nothing.

"Sorry."

Draco straightened up then, without letting go, so that he could pull Harry into him, instead of leaning against him.

"Don't apologize. They were the assholes."

Harry had already heard it, of course, but somehow, on this Christmas morning, while the fire cackled and the snow fell and Draco hugged him, it felt more real. It was such a dreamlike moment, and yet it was more real than anything Harry had lived yet.

He hugged Draco back, trying to express his gratitude through gesture.

He sighed again, more happily.

"I'm glad you're here,." he mumbled into Draco's chest.

After a while of dreamy silence, Draco finally replied.

"So, do I get to open your fan-gifts ?"

The question was so unexpected, Harry couldn't stiffle a laugh.

"Yeah, okay, fine. I don't mind."

"Cool."

They stayed like that a while still.

 

They still spend most of their day apart, though Harry once found Draco in the library and decided to stay, and on another occasion, Draco (reluctantly) accompagnied Harry to Hagrid's hut.

Harry didn't mind. He liked the easy relationship. They didn't talk much, but it was fine.

Plus, it wasn't like if he could just stick to Draco's footsteps all day, even if he probably wouldn't mind that, either. Actually, he probably would like it. But Draco seemed to want to be a bit by himself this year, and really, Harry could understand that.

They got spectacularly drunk on New Year's Eve, though. Harry didn't fully remember, but it had been very funny, then very embarassing for both of them, and then they kind of stayed in a tangle on the sofa, moaning about the room spinning and feeling like shit. In the morning, Draco thankfully produced two vials of Hangover Potion from his belongings, and Harry could have snogged him right there, if they both had not been feeling so shitty.

 

When the break was over, Hogwart was flooded with people again, and Harry was surrounded with friends and groupies as usual.

He was afraid that the beginning of something he had with Malfoy would stop, now that he couldn't be alone with him as easily. Ron had warmed up to him, if only because he could mock his bedhair every day while Draco was too mentally impaired to snark back, and Hermione was a very reasonable witch, but there was really no telling about how they'd react if he just tried to go with « Hum, actually, I really feel like hanging out with Draco, now, so, uhm, I'll be on my way, yeah ? »

He wasn't long in finding out part of the answer, though.

One cold morning, he was sitting on his bed, waiting for the bathroom to be free again, when Draco rose, his usual gloomy self. Harry watched him slowly go for the door, try to open it, multiple times, pause, try again, pause some more, and then make his way to him, and flop down next to him with a deep, heartfelt sigh.

By then, Harry had a sort of Pavlovian response to that sigh, and didn't even realize he was offering his shoulder to Draco's head until Ron, rising too, gaped at them.

"What in Merlin's name his happening here, mate ?"

Draco sighed again, and honest-to-god nuzzled Harry's shoulder this time, in a motion that screamed « please make the Weasley go away. »

"I think I'm being Draco's pillow."

Ron gaped even wider.

"« Draco ? »"

Harry flushed.

"Hum. Yeah."

Ron looked like he had been hit on the head, but then shrugged.

"Well, it's kind of hard to hate that morning zombie, I'll grant you that."

Harry never felt so grateful to Ron.

"Yeah. Something like that. It'd be like hating a grumpy puppy."

Draco grunted warningly, but Ron barked out a laugh.

"Yeah, mate, I get the thing, you're a ninny and soon you'll gush at kittens with Ginny."

Thoughts of Ginny somewhat chilled Harry.

"No, thanks," he shuddered, "I'd really rather not."

"Never again." Ron muttered.

 

"No, I absolutely won't let it happen !"

The cry of outrage rang through the Eight Year common room, making a few student jump in fright.

"What ? Don't burn my stuff, what's wrong with you ?" came the equally loud and indigned answer.

This time, most of the students rose from their seat and scrambled to see what was causing the commotion.

Draco was standing next to Harry's trunk, holding a huge maroon shirt, and pointing his wand at it like it was a hostage and he was not afraid to kill it. Right in front of him, Harry didn't have his wand out, but he was standing ready to pounce.

"You will not wear this ever again." Draco growled.

"Why do you care what I wear ? Just let it go !"

"You're a fashion catastrophe, Potter, I won't let this go. Ever. I'll burn it. I'll burn every single rag you own."

"What ? What is wrong with you ?"

"You already asked, and there is nothing wrong with me. I'm picture perfect. And you are not. I will not bear this sight any longer. I'm sorry. I can't. I have to do this."

Harry screamed in horror as slow flames went up his maroon shirt and devoured the fabric.

Draco had a very saddened expression.

"One day, you will thank me, Potter. Now, get out, loser, we're going shopping."

 

Harry had to admit shopping with Draco was fun. And Draco was hilarious, in his weird twisted way, with his dark and wry humor. And, of course, he had excellent taste.

"Now, I can be seen in your company." Draco estimed at the end of the day.

"Wow, I'm so relieved."

 

If the looks he was getting was anything to go by, he looked really good in his new outfits. Draco alternated between looking smugly at him, then at the girls drooling at him, then smuglier at him, with a hint of something else, and then glowering at the girls drooling at him.

 

"You really are becoming close with Malfoy, aren't you ?" Hermione asked out of the blue at lunch.

Well, maybe not so much out of the blue, since Draco had draped himself all over him, loudly stating that « all of this, my good work. Aaaaaall. Of thiiiis. »

"He's actually kind of fun.3 Harry simply replied.

"Yesss," Draco purred, "I'm so much fun. So very much fun."

Harry hoped nobody caught him shiver at that.

 

Was it wrong to wank on Draco Malfoy ?

 

Maybe it was wrong to wank on Draco Malfoy, but fucking hell, that was a good wank.

 

He probably should control his need to dreamily stare at Draco for no reason at all other than he looked good. It was starting to show. Draco had noticed, but he seemed to genuinely think it was only what he deserved for being such an inspiration.

Hermione had noticed, but didn't comment on it. Much.

Ron had noticed, and asked if it was going to be sixth year all over again.

Harry assured that it wouldn't.

He left silent the part where he was trying to know how to get Draco to snog him, and possibly remove his pants.

 

Other mornings happened when Draco leaned on Harry.

He just seemed to be oddly cuddly in the mornings.

These times, though, Harry started leaning a bit back. Maybe rub Draco's shoulder soothingly, or his back. He seemed to like it, because he never protested, but occasionnally sighed and nuzzled his shoulder again.

Harry was starting to feel kind of high on these nuzzle sessions.

Draco, when he just woke up, was just so... warm... and pliant... and huggable...

While Usual Draco was so perfect. Smart. Witty. Funny. And hot. So very hot.

Harry suspected he was falling hard for the git.

It felt absolutely heavenly.

Ron gave them weird looks and would sometimes comment « Merlin damn it, Harry, never thought I'd see the day where you cuddled that prat. » or « I knew he was a ponce » or even « is it babysitting time again ? »

Harry didn't really care, because Draco breathed warmly and softly right into his neck and he was really busy refraining from kissing his hair.

He had got it bad.

The rest of the time, he wanted to kiss Draco's devilish smirk away. He liked hearing him go on and on about how great he was and how Harry owned him everything. He could stare for hours at how well Draco's clothes fitted him, and how devastating he looked. He wanted a lot of things, but he knew he wasn't ready to get them yet. He was enjoying wanting, so far, never feeling the pain so often described in romance novels. (not that he read that. Ever.)

 

One evening, Draco came stumbling in the common room. He looked as fine as usual, except that he was holding his nose and didn't conceal his fright well enough for Harry.

"What happened ?" He asked, leaving his homework to go to hell.

"Nothing," Draco drawled, straightening up, "I'm just... going to bed early."

Harry narrowed his eyes as Draco climbed the stairs to the room. Everybody seemed to have accepted the excuse, but he followed.

He found Draco in the bathroom, sticking a handkerchief in his nose. He was facing the other way, and didn't turn when Harry entered.

"Not one word, Potter," he warned.

"Did you glamour your face again ?"

Draco sighed, and leaned on the sink in defeat.

"I gave one simple instruction, and you can't even follow it. Really, how much of an idiot are you ?"

He sounded tired.

"Just tell me, Draco."

Carefully, Harry approached him. He could see in Draco's reflection the handkerchief turning bloody, even though Draco looked just as perfect as usual. He put a hand on his shoulder.

"Please." he added.

Draco sighed again. With a quick, nervous wave of his wand, he willed the Glamour away.

Harry chocked back a whimper.

Draco's nose looked almost broken, the side of his face was bloody and raw, he sported another black eye, and he looked very much in pain. Without thinking, Harry tightened his grip. He couldn't say a word.

Draco stared into Harry's eyes through the mirror.

After a tense silence, Harry finally opened his mouth.

"As much as I really want to go and punch whoever did this until they forget their name... What you really need right now is Hermione. I can't do healing spells right."

Draco winced.

"I'd really rather not. It's fine. I have potions."

"Then why didn't you start there ?"

Draco shrugged.

"I... prefer to glamour and wait until it goes away. Same thing to other people, and it doesn't drain my supplies so much".

Harry gaped at him.

"Woah, no. You're not going to suffer for... one week and a half at best... just so you don't have to use your supplies. Drink them, or I'll call Hermione."

"Urgh, fine ! You're such a macbossypants."

Harry grinned.

"I know. Now do it."

Draco reluctantly accio'd a vial and, grimacing at Harry, downed it.

"The other reason is that it tastes really bad."

Harry chuckled.

The blood was draining away from Draco's face, and he could see his nose getting back into place, as pale and pointy as ever.

"I really like your nose better that way," Harry whispered, absent-mindedly getting closer to Draco's personal space.

"So do I," Draco mumbled.

Harry didn't notice he was raising his hand to touch Draco's face until it was inches away. Draco's grey eyes widened, darting from Harry's hand to Harry's eyes, seeming confused.

Harry blinked a few times, vanishing the cloud of something that had obscured his judgement, and dropped his hand.

"Hum. Sorry. I... Yeah. What."

He suddenly realized how close they were, and took a hasty step back.

"So I... Yeah. Out."

And he flew away.

 

Luckily for him, Draco didn't seem to hold anything against him. He didn't reduce the amount of time he spent around Harry, or the amount of cuddling he had taken to get in the mornings. By then, everybody was used to it, and pretty grateful to Harry, since, as long as Draco was glued to him half-sleeping, he wasn't bullying his way into the bathroom. Ernie could even linger in there without any problem.

One morning, Harry just couldn't take it any longer.

He had been slowly petting Draco's shoulder, and he was just inches away from touching his neck. His bare, stretched, delicious-looking neck. Draco's breath was relaxed and steady, nobody was looking. Trying to make it seem as if he just had misjudged the distance of his slow petting, he stroked the skin, once. Draco sighed, and nuzzled. By now, Harry knew it was his morning speak for « yes, this pleased me, peasant », so he did it again. Draco's skin was wonderfully warm and soft, and Harry was probably going to lose his mind over it. A few inches more... And he was stroking Draco's hair. Silk, soft, and incredibly messy. Draco sighed again, hugging Harry closer. Okay. So he could do that. That was good.

Something told him that trying anything more would be taking advantage, so he refrained from dropping a kiss on Draco's hair like he really, really wanted. Instead, he brought back his hand in safe shoulder territory, and squeezed once.

"Okay, Draco, I think you can go to the bathroom, now."

Draco whined.

 

In the end, Harry snapped.

It was the middle of the afternoon. They had a free period, and as Harry couldn't take Hermione's lecturing on N.E.W.T.s for more than four hours at a time, he had escaped to sleep under a tree, far away from view. Except Draco was already here, reading a book. It didn't surprise or upset him, and he simply laid down next to him, getting ready for his nap.

"Hope you enjoy your read", he said yawning, "I'll sleep for you."

Draco snorted, but didn't move from his leaning spot against the tree.

Harry closed his eyes.

It was chilly, but he was wearing enough layers not to feel the cold. Draco was wrapped up in as many clothes as possible while still remaining elegant and fashionable, probably with one or two warming charms, too. His nose, ears, and cheeks were flushed. It was a good look on him.

The cold, white sun was playing in the naked branches of the tree, which were shielding nothing, and there was only a quiet sort of wind.

It was peaceful, and Harry felt, once again, the serenity he had experienced on Christmas Day.

After a while, he felt Draco's hand in his hair.

He opened his eyes.

Draco was still reading his book, as if he had not been doing anything special. Harry had slowly smiled, and closed his eyes again, enjoying the hand carding through his hair.

He thought he heard a soft release of breath, but he wasn't going to open his eyes to check.

Fifteen minutes later, he realized that, as relaxed as he felt, he was never going to be able to nap as he planned. He was way too focused on Draco's hand. So he straightened up, and turned to Draco, who looked a bit wary.

"Hey."

Draco lifted an eyebrow, but he still looked unsure.

"Wanna know what I've been wanting to do for a while now ?"

Harry cringed internally at how bold he sounded, but Draco nodded slowly, transfixed.

So Harry had cupped his cheek in his hand, swipping his thumb across the delicate flush there. And then he softly kissed him.

He never imagined it like this. He thought, maybe, one day he'd get so turned on he'd just slam Draco against whatever plane surface was nearest and kiss the living daylight out of him, and that Draco would shove him away, and ask « what the hell ? », before, hopefully, grabbing him equally as violently and kiss him again. He also thought that he would one day kiss Morning Draco, and that he would be just as open and pliant and slowly be woken up by the kiss. He thought maybe they'd be drunk. He thought maybe it would be Draco kissing him first.

He didn't think it would be on a cold winter afternoon, with Draco whimpering only once in his mouth, starting so soft, so sweet, and so mutual, before escalading to something more heated as Harry grew more excited (« oh my god, I'm kissing Draco Malfoy ») and Draco grew bolder and regained his usual bossy-ness (Which Harry didn't mind. At all.)

Finally, they separated, panting.

"Hum. Well. That went..." Harry struggled.

-"I want you naked right now." Draco interrupted.

"Oh. Uh. It's a bit cold."

But all the blood of his body was pooling in his groin, and he felt hotter than ever, so that objection probably wouldn't stand long.

Draco growled and pounced on him, kissing him with a raw hunger that would suffer no protestation.

Harry really didn't mind.

A cold hand snaked his way under his robes, under his shirt, right against his skin, and Harry gasped. He was definitely hard as a... something really hard, and by the way Draco rolled agressively his hips against his leg, so was he.

Draco moved to kiss, lick, bite Harry's jaw, his ear, his neck, and Harry was a whimpering mess.

"Mine !" Draco growled as he grabbed Harry's cock through his trousers.

Harry really couldn't think of a single objection. Draco's grip tightened, and Harry thought he was going to die, but thrust up anyway.

Draco tried to get his hand inside Harry's trousers, but he had barely grazed the head of his cock ( «  _oh fuck_  » Harry thought) when he got frustrated, straightened up, angrily teared Harry's belt and buttons out of the way, and grabbed him again more firmly, squeezing and stroking furiously.

"Oh my god, Draco," Harry panted "Oh my fucking god!"

"Yeah," Draco hysterically replied, "that's me, the fucking god."

Harry barked a laugh at that, which melted into a very aroused groan.

"You like that, you like that, Potter ?"

Draco sounded like he had lost all traces of sanity, but it didn't matter one bit to Harry, who could only moan encouragingly.

"You're mine, mine, mine," Draco chanted, rutting against his leg, "you're so mine, Harry, just come, just do it."

Harry cried out, and came as white sparked in his vision.

"Oh my god, Draco..." he repeated, dazzed.

Draco had whined, rutted frantically, stiffened, and slumped on Harry, breathing hard.

Harry lazily raised a hand to hold him.

"Oh my fucking god."

"Very... eloquently put, Potter." Draco said, sounding high.

"I know."

 

Ten minutes later, Draco had suddenly stiffened again.

"Oh my god, Potter."

Harry patted him slowly.

"I know."

"What the fuck, Potter."

"I know."

 

Twenty minutes after that, Draco had finally relaxed again.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Okay," Harry had echoed.

 

Then, after five minutes, they were snogging again, Draco's right hand clutching Harry's left one, the others roaming on eachother's body.

 

At midnight, when everyone was asleep, or supposed to, Harry quietly slipped into Draco's four poster bed, thanking the curtains for hiding them from view. Draco immediately grabbed him, shoved him down, and started kissing him again.

Harry felt a bit dizzy when he finally understood Draco was naked.

 

Draco was oddly pliant in the morning, Harry reflected once more.

He had woken up, and he still didn't believe it wasn't a dream. Draco was warm and flush against him, his hair wilder than ever. He was breathing softly, his arms around Harry. They were both naked, and Harry felt such a rush of love and affection for him, that he thought he could very well melt on the spot.

Instead, he softly kissed Draco's lips. The upper one, the lower one. Draco shifted, exhaling something that probably wished to be a grunt.

Very carefully, Harry pushed him to lay flat on his back, and kissed his forehead. Then the tip of his nose. His cheek. Very slowly. His jaw. His neck, and collarbone, too. He stroked delicatly accross his pale chest and shoulder, grazing his arm and wrist with one finger.

Draco sighed. Harry kissed the inside of his wrist, tenderly, lovingly.

He just felt so full of affection, he was going to burst. Instead, he kept slowly, softly, teasingly stroking and kissing Draco. Liking his nipple, delicatly. Kissing down his ribs, paying attention to all the scars he had left there. Kissing his abs, licking the trail of hair that was here. Breathed on his erect cock. Kissed again the inside of his tights. By then, Draco still had his eyes closed, but he was whining very quietly, sighing, opening slightly his body to Harry's ministrations.

When Harry had licked the inside of his knee and stroked his delicate foot, he went to Draco's groin again, and breathed hot puff of air on it.

Draco's breath hitched, but still he wouldn't open his eyes. Harry breathed harder on his cock and balls, and a tiny twitch of Draco's hips answered him. Draco moved his arms as if to touch Harry, but Harry quietly took his wrists and spread them up Draco's head again, kissing his adam apple.

"Shhh, shhhh, please," he asked in a low voice, "Stay like this."

Draco let out a very quiet whine through parted lips, but didn't move again, so Harry went back to his groin.

He took Draco's very hard cock in his hand, and stroked, amazed at the weird feeling of soft skin on this hardness. He felt his mouth water.

He thought that he really wanted this inside him.

Curious, he licked the head, once. Draco's whimper was a bit stronger, then. Harry licked again, slowlier. The sound coming from Draco's throat was undescriptable, and Harry slowly took him in his mouth, and sucked.

Draco tensed, swallowing back a moan. He clutched at the headpost to refrain from moving.

Harry licked and sucked, blowing and sometimes letting a graze of teeth, slowly, ever so slowly, and Draco's noises were slowly increasing in volume. Still, his eyes were tightly shut.

Harry moved his licks to Draco's sack, testing his reactions. He licked right behind them, and down, and down...

And then, he was licking at Draco's hole, who jumped, but remained pliant and open.

It was intoxicating. Harry licked harder, pressing with his tongue, and Draco squirmed.

"Ngggggh," was all the blond could muster.

Harry pressed even more, and Draco probably would pull something if he tried to spread any wider. Harry grabbed his cock again, stroking in rythm with his licks.

"Nggggggggg," Draco moaned again, rocking his hips as if he didn't know where to push for more. Harry grabbed his wand with his other hand, never stopping to stroke a growingly desperate Draco, and charmed some lube directly on the blond's hole, who jumped like he had earlier.

Fascinated, Harry pressed a single finger there. Draco was shivering madly. Harry pressed again, and his finger got inside as Draco trembled even more. For a while, Harry didn't do anything with it, stroking calmly Draco's cock until he relaxed, and tensed again in a good way. Then, he moved the finger, in and out, slowly. He joined another finger, scissoring calmly. Then, he crooked his fingers. Draco arched immediately, moaning loudly. Harry abruptly froze, listening, but there wasn't a sound outside. Beside, he had spelled the curtains earlier that night.

So he resumed his actions, and Draco whimpered and moaned louder and louder. Harry crooked his fingers again, and Draco reacted in the same beautiful way he had. Harry added a third finger. He was growing a bit frantic now, and forced himself to keep the same lazy pace he had maintened until then.

"Mrrrrrgggnnnnn," Draco voiced.

Harry could feel Draco's balls tighten under his hands, so he lined himself with Draco's hole, and slowly pushed his cock inside Draco's warm and wet body, kissing his neck again.

Draco moaned loudly, his knuckles going white from the effort he put in not grabbing Harry.

Harry stayed there a few seconds, giving Draco time to adjust, but Draco kept trying to move his hips, so he moved, slowly pulling out as Draco whined, then pushing back in, still slowly.

Draco was making tiny frustrated sounds, but one hand on his hips was enough to steady him.

Harry pulled out again, very slowly, and pushed back in, adjusting the angle so he was pressing at a maddeningly quiet pace into Draco's sweet spot, whose moans got louder and louder as he got closer to it. Draco was clenching around him, and his cock was dripping with precome, so Harry wasn't going to last much longer.

He pulled out, faster, and violently thrust back in. Draco shouted then, and Harry did it again, and again, faster and harder each time, and he firmly bit down on Draco's neck, who came at once, moaning loudly.

A few thrusts in Draco's clenching body, and Harry came too, whimpering in Draco's neck.

He fell limp on Draco's heaving chest.

Draco slowly unclutched his hands from where he grabbed the bed, and pressed Harry against him, one hand stroking his hair.

They felt dizzy again.

When Harry lifted his head, Draco was looking at him with an amazed, stunned, and starstruck expression.

Harry smiled sheepishly.

Draco stared at him some more, wonder all accross his features.

Finally, he opened his mouth, and rasped :

"Kin' o' lovyou too."

It was good enough for Harry.

 

They got a few stares when they got into the living room. Harry really wanted to think it was only because they were up so late, and not at all because of eventual noise, their possible post-shag glow (even if they now were perfectly decent), or even the fact that Draco had a possessive hand around his waist and seemed to glare long enough at everybody to say « Hey, so you like this one ? It's mine. Mine. You can't touch him. I'll cut you if you touch him. That being said, do admire him. He's so fine. And also mine. »

Harry hoped he'd get used to _that_.

 

 


End file.
